This Is Gospel
by La Menoir
Summary: Hunting has always been easy for Emma Sinclair - find a case, track down whatever goes bump in the night, kill it, move on - especially when she has three Winchesters by her side. Now her dad and his hunting partner are missing, and she and the boys will stop at nothing in order to find them - even if it means unearthing a reality far worse than killing monsters.
1. Bottoms Up

_October 13th, 2005_

Dean Winchester woke to darkness, with his head pounding and his eyesight blurry. Bit by bit, as his vision cleared, he could make out his surroundings: he was in a dark room – probably a basement or cellar due to the lack of windows and light – and the air was damp, smelling of rot. He couldn't see much else and made to move his hand to grab the flashlight he'd stashed in his jacket earlier, but he couldn't move. Looking down, he found himself bound to a chair.

"Sonavabitch," he muttered to no one in particular. He had no idea how he came to be tied up, only remembered the thing he was hunting – a ghoul this time – throwing him against a wall, but he knew he had to break free before the SOB came back. Dean struggled against his restraints, the rope rubbing painfully against his wrists. He looked around, his eyes slightly adjusted to the dark, only to find that he was alone. _Where is she?_

"It's not going to do you much good to struggle," said a soft voice from the corner, and Dean grinned to the darkness. Emma Sinclair came into view, an amused expression on her face. Her long, dark brown hair that usually hung in loose silky tendrils down her back was slightly matted and her blue eyes shone with laughter; her machete was covered in blood. She came up to Dean and bent in front of him, retrieving a pocketknife from the black leather jacket she always wore.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Dean said as Emma began cutting through the rope. She ignored his comment but raised her eyes to his briefly.

"Why is it that you always get yourself tied up?"

Dean's grin grew wider. "Everyone wants to get a piece of me. Some are into kinky stuff."

Emma tried not to laugh at his bad joke, considering it's exactly what the ghoul had been trying to do – to get a piece of him. "Stop talking so I can focus on this." She cut through the last of the restraints and Dean stood, rubbing his wrists. It was only when he was free that he looked to the ground next to him – why didn't he do that before? – and saw the ghoul's headless body.

Dean looked at Emma in surprise and admiration. "You ganked it? That thing was Chewbacca sized."

She rolled her eyes affectionately at him, a small smile gracing her lips as she said "nerd" before taking his arm and pulling him towards the stairs, desperately wanting to get out of that house. Even after years of hunting, Dean still managed to be surprised when Emma, in all of her five foot four and a hundred and ten pound glory, managed to kill these giant things.

Night had fallen when they stepped out of the house and Emma found an odd calmness wash over her. She liked the night, despite how ironic it was that she knew what lurked in the dark. When she was very young, it was always at this time of day that her father would sneak into her room with her sneakers, his already on. They would quietly make their way outside and into her dad's old car and drive until they found a good spot to stop and watch the stars until the early hours of the morning. The stars reminded her of youthful innocence, before she was exposed to the ugly reality of the world.

"Em?" Dean was already sitting in the Impala, leaning across the seat to look at her through the rolled down window. She hadn't noticed him get in the car. "You coming? I've got something to show you."

Emma looked at him quizzically but decided it was pointless asking him what he wanted to show her; he'd never say until they got there. They drove, the only noise being the purr of the car's engine, but Emma didn't mind, enjoying the silence. It was a comfortable silence, one that she could only share with Dean.

She had known Dean since she was young, since she was born even. Their fathers, Anthony Sinclair and John Winchester, had been marine partners and long before that, best friends. It was her father that was the hunter, but Emma had never really known the specific details of how he came to be one – something about being orphaned and found by an older hunter when he was in his early teens – but she knew that he had put that lifestyle when he'd met Grace, Emma's mother. However, once Mary Winchester died, Anthony had been pulled back into that life, unable to let his best friend find that thing alone; he showed him the ropes and learned a lot more along the way. As for her mother… she left them two years after Mary's death. Maybe it was because she couldn't handle taking care of three kids while her husband was off on a crusade with his friend, maybe it was because she'd found someone else. But whichever the reason, Emma hated her; she hated her for what it did to her father, how it drove him even more into hunting the same way it drove John.

"Where are we going?" Emma finally broke the silence after they'd passed the exit they should have taken.

Dean looked at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "You'll see."

At some point, Dean turned off the highway and onto a dirt road that eventually led them to a clearing, where he killed the engine and got out of the car. Emma followed suit without question, and pulled herself onto the hood. After this many years, she learned not to question Dean and to go with it, unless it was something irrational, which seemed to happen more often than she would like to admit.

Emma heard the trunk slam shut and Dean came around, an undeniable twinkle in his eyes. She looked at him curiously but shook her head; that man was always up to something.

He sat next to her, their legs touching, and as Emma looked up at the sky to see if she could spot any constellations, she caught Dean looking at her out of the corner of her eye. He was smiling.

She turned to him. "What are you looking at?"

Dean winked. "I didn't forget; it just got delayed with the whole monster thing. Happy birthday, Em," he said to her, pulling a beer from behind his back. Emma laughed when she saw the bow on it. She took it gratefully, thinking that this was the most perfect thing he could offer; she was far from an alcoholic, but it was the thought, the cheesiness behind it that she loved. They didn't have much – heck, all of their belongings fit into the trunk of the Impala – but she would take this over any other extravagant gift, simply from the fact that it came from Dean.

In all honesty, she had forgotten it was her birthday; they'd been so caught up in the hunt of the ghoul that it slipped her mind. She didn't feel a year older, didn't feel as if she was twenty-six instead of twenty-five. A birthday for her wasn't a big deal. But Dean remembered; he always did.

Emma looked at Dean, and in the moonlight, the color of his eyes was of a richer shade of green, the light catching flecks of dark brown, black and yellow. "Thank you," she said to him, laughing, "it's perfect." She wasn't sure if he understood how much that small gesture meant to her. Yet judging by his smile, he knew.

"There's a lot more where that came from," Dean joked. The wind picked up from behind them and Emma gave the slightest shiver, wishing she'd pulled out the blanket from the trunk. Dean kicked off his boots to not damage the paint of the car and readjusted himself on the hood, sitting behind her. He wrapped an arm around Emma's waist and placed a leg on either side of her, his body shielding hers from the wind.

Emma leaned back against his chest to get a better look at the sky. "You're growing soft, Dean," she teased.

He took a pull of a beer he'd brought out for himself and kissed her temple, resting his chin on top of her head. "Only with you, Em," he replied, his arm tightening around her.

They spent the rest of the night on the hood of the Impala, drinking beer and looking at the sky, Emma showing Dean which constellation was which. She's told him countless times before but he didn't mind; he enjoyed listening to her recount each of the mythologies, hearing the passion in her words and voice. And when they'd had enough of the stars, they lay there and listened to music, saying nothing. Eventually, they fell asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: This idea has been festering for nearly three years, and I finally racked up the courage to start posting it. I know this chapter was short, but I promise you the others will be much, much longer and much more detailed (that is, if you stick around for that long). Let me know what you think in the reviews, and don't forget to favourite/follow if you want to know where the story goes! After all, it's only the beginning.**


	2. Four Long Years

"Rise and shine!" Dean boomed as he shut the door. Emma cracked an eye open. She really didn't want to get up, but when she heard the keys hit the table, she sighed and decided it was in her best interest to get up instead of being dragged out of bed. Literally. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she groaned, her muscles protesting against the physical activity. She wasn't a morning person after a hunt.

"I hate poltergeists," she grumbled, thinking back to yesterday's hunt when she was brutally thrown against a wall by the thing. She'd hit her head pretty hard too, but thankfully no concussion. Dean regarded her and chuckled from where he stood by the door, expertly balancing two coffees and a brown bag as he removed his jacket.

"I'd say you're still sore from after," he said, sitting next to her on the bed with a mischievous grin forming on his lips. Emma rolled her eyes at his cheeky comment, having heard it many times over the years, and took the cup he offered her.

She took a careful sip. "Count yourself lucky you brought me a caramel latte and that my arms hurt, or else I'd hit you right now."

"I figured you'd need the caramel thing to cheer you up, grumpy." Dean dangled the brown bag in front of her, his smile growing wider. "And I got you a breakfast sandwich." It took everything she had to not smile as she put her cup on the bedside table and grabbed the bag from his hands, taking out the sandwich and biting into it. She nearly closed her eyes at how good it tasted. She finished the breakfast in record time, not realizing how hungry she'd been until the meal had disappeared. They had skipped dinner the other day to finish the hunt and once they'd gotten to the motel… they'd gotten a bit distracted.

Emma rested her head on Dean's shoulder, ready for sleep again due to her full stomach. "Where are we off to today?"

"Well," he began, snaking his arm around her waist and turning her face towards his, "I was thinking we'd spend the day here. Y'know, watch bad sit-coms, sleep, relax, or…" He trailed off, placing gentle kisses on her lips. She smiled and pulled him closer, leaning back against the headboard.

"I like that idea," Emma said, kissing him, "in fact, I think that's the best one you've had in a while." Dean smiled, his hand trailing up the shirt she was wearing that happened to be his.

No sooner had she spoken those words, Dean's cellphone rang. He gave an exasperated huff and reached into his pocket to retrieve the device.

He flipped it open, not bothering to look at the number. "Hello?" He said annoyed. The caller spoke and Dean's face immediately softened, his green eyes meeting Emma's blue ones. _Bobby_ , he mouthed.

"Hold on, Bobby, I'll put you on speaker so Em can hear." Dean shifted his weight off her and sat at the edge of the bed, pressing a button on the phone.

There was crackling at the other end of the line, then Bobby's voice filled the room. "How'd the hunt go?"

"It was just peachy, Bobby," Dean replied sarcastically, "getting the shit kicked out of you after four hours of sleep is the best feeling in the world."

"Don't sass me, boy," Bobby said to Dean, who shrugged as if Bobby would be able to see it.

Emma gave Dean a look and he shrugged again innocently, gesturing to the phone. She rolled her eyes. "What Dean meant to say was that the poltergeist was a pain but we managed to put it down."

"That's what I like to hear, sweetheart." There was a long pause before Bobby spoke up again. "Listen," he sighed, "I'm gonna cut right to it: I haven't heard a thing from either of your dads."

Emma's heart squeezed at those words and she glanced at Dean; his eyes were hard and his jaw set. Neither of them spoke and Bobby took it as a sign to continue. "Last I heard from 'em was last week when they left for their… whatever it was you can call it, and they called me to ask if I'd be home in a few days because they wanted to stop by; they didn't. Haven't heard from 'em since."

Emma sucked in a breath. They'd never been gone this long without contact. Never.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean broke the silence, his voice hard and low. Emma swallowed, looking down at her hands, unsure what to do with herself.

"Don't mention it, son. Give me a call if you need anythin'." Before either of them could answer, Bobby hung up and the silent room was filled with the dial tone. Dean quickly snapped his phone shut and squeezed it in his hand, closing his eyes.

It was hard for the both of them, not knowing where their fathers were. In the past few years, Dean and Emma had mostly been on their own, working cases while John and her father hunted whatever had killed Mary. But they would always check in every second day, and be back to them within a week, two tops. As much as Emma tried not to, she worried about them often; having moved around for the better part of her life, her father, John, Dean, Sam and Bobby were the only family she had. Not counting her cousin Lisa, who she saw on rare occasions, but spoke to often on the phone.

It was Dean who spoke first. "We need to find them."

Emma sighed, knowing where this was going. "I know, Dee, but…" She wasn't sure what else she could say. _But what?_ Their fathers wouldn't want the two to go looking for them; they'd told them that much. Yet, she couldn't ignore this nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

"Em," Dean shifted on the bed to face her, "we have to go looking for them. I don't care what they said, we have to." Although his face showed otherwise, Emma had come to know Dean Winchester over the twenty-six years of her life, and by looking into his green eyes, she could see the fear and worry he was trying to hide.

Emma slowly nodded her head, pursing her lips. "I want to find them," she began, "but where do we start?" Dean's eyebrows pulled together in concentration. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out of it as if the answer would be written in the sky.

He turned around suddenly. "We could go to Stanford, get Sammy."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she disagreed hesitantly, shaking her head, thinking back to nearly two years ago when he had called Sam to get his input on a case. Needless to say, the call didn't end well and Emma was left to deal with a grumpy Dean for the rest of the day. "Sam doesn't want to be bothered with any of this."

Dean sat next to Emma again and pulled her onto his lap, encircling her waist with his arms. "C'mon, Em, you know as well as I do that three brains is better than two for something like this." She couldn't help but agree with him on that. "It'd be just like old times." And this is what broke her heart: the hopeful tone in his voice as he spoke of Sam coming back to them. She couldn't deny she wished for it as well, but Sam had wanted out of this life in order to pursue a normal one, and Stanford was normal. Not this.

Emma rested her hand on Dean's cheek, feeling the roughness of it. "We could try, Dean, but I know he won't come with us. I know him."

"I know him, too," Dean's voice held a tone of determination, "and this is dad and Anthony. He'll come, if only for a little bit." She stared at him and he stared back, his eyes unblinking.

This wasn't going anywhere, and Emma knew there was no point in arguing. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pecked his cheek. "Aright then," she fake-sighed, "grab me some pants. We're heading to Stanford." Dean grinned and kissed her briefly, setting her on the bed before he stood and went to his duffel bag.

Emma smiled to herself as he began to whistle Metallica. She reached for her jeans that had been carelessly thrown to the ground the night before. "I wonder if there'll be any cute college boys?" She teased. The whistling abruptly stopped and Dean turned around, fixing her with a hard look.

"One comes near you, and the dude'll wish he was facing that poltergeist instead of me."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

X

The drive to Stanford took them all day, and by the time the Impala pulled onto the campus, it was just past two in the morning. As Emma and Dean drove the narrow streets, students were spilling out of houses and bars, dressed in various outfits ranging from monsters to sexy-somethings. Then it clicked: it had been Halloween. Looking at the girls, and some of the guys, Emma wondered if they'd purposely decided not to wear the whole costume.

She reached across the seat and rested her hand on Dean's leg, looking out the window. "Do you think Sam's home? Maybe he went out for Halloween."

Dean laced his fingers with hers as he drove one-handed. He was thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. "Nah, Sam wouldn't stay out late on a weeknight. By the way, remind me next year we're going out for Halloween; I'm getting you one of those nurse costumes."

Emma looked at him, feigning hurt. "Were you looking at other women, Winchester?" His eyes snapped to hers.

"No," he replied seriously, "I'm just seeing what would look good on my girl." He squeezed her hand and gave her a wink.

They found Sam's apartment with ease, based off an address Emma had written down more than two years ago when he had moved in with his girlfriend Jessica. As Dean pulled up to the curb, Emma couldn't help but notice how nice it looked, far much better than anything they had slept in over the past years. They both stared at the building, unsure what to do. Dean was the first to move, reaching for the handle to open the Impala's door.

Emma followed suit, joining him on the sidewalk. She eyed him suspiciously as he kept on looking at the apartment. "You're not going to knock, are you?"

He turned to her with a wide smile, his eyes carrying an almost childish glint. "You know me well, Em," he said ruefully.

"Well, if you're going to break into your brother's place, I'll wait out here, make sure no college boys damage your car."

"Use a shotgun if you have to."

Emma smiled. "Go get Sam." He gave her a salute before turning around and quickly disappearing around the corner of Sam's building.

She leaned against the Impala, folding her arms across her chest. A couple of years back, as her father and Dean finished a job in the town over, John and Emma had taken a trip in the middle of the night to check on Sam; they did this often when they were in the area. Although he would never admit it and sometimes claimed otherwise, John worried about his younger son and kept tabs on him as often as he could. Emma had never told Dean about the side trips, nor would she ever confess to it; she knew he would be pissed to say the least. As far as Dean knew, the last time she'd been here was when they had dropped Sam off for his freshman year.

X

 _Sam pulled out the last of his bags from the Impala's trunk, setting them on the sidewalk. He turned to face Emma with a small smile on his lips._

 _"You have everything you need?" She asked him for the thousandth time that day. Sam looked down at his bags and then at her, running a hand through his hair, a laugh escaping him._

 _"Em, I have more than enough."_

 _Emma smiled at him with much effort. This is it, she told herself, Sammy's leaving. Her smile faltered and she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. He did the same._

 _She pulled away from him, holding him at arms' length and had to crane her neck to look at him. She thought of the six-year-old boy who would climb into her bed at night when he got scared. When had he grown up so much? "I'll miss you, Sammy," she said, her voice stronger than she had expected it to be. She wasn't one to cry, but she could feel the lump forming in her throat._

 _Sam smiled at her. "I'll miss you too, Em, you have no idea." As he said this, Emma didn't miss the way his eyes flicked briefly over her head, to the Impala, where Dean sat, refusing to get out of the car._

 _Sam looked at her again, his expression serious but his eyes sincere. "You didn't have to come get me from the bus station. I would've been able to make it here on my own."_

 _Emma sighed and thought back to yesterday, after Sam had left hurriedly with his bags following his fight with John and Dean. "Stay gone!" John had yelled at his son as the door closed. Emma had all but forced Dean to get in the car and drive to the bus station, where she knew they'd find Sam. And now here they were._

 _She reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "We're family. No matter what."_

 _Sam gave her a sad smile and pulled her into a hug again. "Thank you," he whispered._

 _Emma swallowed hard. "You go now," she said to Sam, giving him a playful push, "go mingle and make friends. Don't get a girl pregnant on your first week." Sam laughed and Emma couldn't help but join in._

 _As Emma opened the passenger door, about to step in, she noticed Sam hesitate before picking up his bags, casting another glance at the car. She waved to him one last time before finally sitting down and slamming the door._

 _Dean cleared his throat, turning on the engine; his face was hard and unreadable. "Let's get out of here," he said, "I'm starving."_

 _Emma sat there, glowering at him. When Dean caught on that she wasn't answering, he turned and met her blazing eyes. "What?" he said defensively, "I'm hungry."_

 _It took all of her self-control to not reach out and slap him across the face. "You're_ impossible _," she seethed, pinching the bridge of her nose to calm herself down. When she felt like she wasn't going to attack him, she continued. "He's your_ brother _, Dean. You're not even going to say '_ bye _'?"_

 _Dean looked out the window, his lips pursed and his hands tightened around the wheel. He sighed in frustration. He was getting worked up, too._

 _"I've told you, Em," Dean answered forcefully, "he chose to leave. I'm not gonna stand there like a sucker with open arms. He's_ leaving _us."_

 _Emma was taken aback with the last part, her face softening ever so slightly. She knew Dean well enough–better than she knew herself–to know that he was mad at Sam for leaving them. But to hear him voice it was entirely different; it was his way of admitting how hurt he was._

 _She tried a different, much gentler approach. "What if something happened to you on a hunt?" she questioned, her voice still firm yet no longer angry. "What if we get in a car accident as we're pulling out of campus? Is that what you want Sam's last memory of you to be?"_

 _And that's what did it. Dean ran a hand through his hair and killed the engine, murmuring a 'give me a minute' to her as he got out of the car. Through her open window, Emma heard him call out Sam's name and she looked in the rearview mirror to see Dean closing the distance between him and his younger brother._

 _They hugged and Emma smiled to herself upon seeing Sam's eyes close tight and his hand clutch the back of Dean's jacket. All the while it didn't escape her mind that with Dean's reaction, he was hiding something from her._

X

Fifteen minutes had passed when the apartment door finally opened and out came Dean, closely followed by Sam. She could tell even from a distance that the two were arguing. Despite it all, Emma's lips spread into a wide smile as she pushed herself off the car and jogged towards them, the brothers' fight put on hold; she jumped into Sam's waiting arms.

"Holy crap I've missed you," she said, hugging him close to her; even though they'd communicate by email once in a while, it wasn't the same as in person. His arms tightened around her waist and she couldn't stop the shriek of laughter that escaped her lips as he spun her around. He laughed with her as he set her down, briefly pressing a kiss to her forehead before letting her go.

"I missed you, too, Em." They stayed silent for a moment until Dean led them towards the car, turning to face Sam.

"We can't do this alone," Dean said, cutting right to it.

"Yes you can," Sam replied almost instantly. Emma looked between the two, choosing to stay quiet; this was between Sam and Dean. Dean just looked at his brother, his eyes speaking volumes.

Sam was holding his ground but she could tell that he was wavering. Eventually, he let out a frustrated sigh. "What were they hunting?" Emma didn't miss the victorious twitch of Dean's mouth as Sam said this.

Dean popped open the trunk and opened the secret compartment, revealing their array of hunting weapons. He rubbed his hands together and began rummaging through it. Emma leaned against the bumper.

"So, when dad and Anthony left, why didn't you go with them?" Sam questioned. The question was directed to Dean but he looked at Emma.

Emma unfolded her arms and pointed to Dean where he'd put the file. "We were down in New Orleans, working a voodoo case."

Sam looked at them incredulously. "They let you go on a hunting trip by yourselves?"

Dean paused and looked at Sam, his face hidden from Emma's view. "We're twenty-six, dude," he said in all seriousness, and pulled out the documents he'd been looking for. "Alright, here we go."

Emma glanced at the papers in Dean's hands, already knowing the information they contained. She pushed herself off the bumper and walked to the passenger side as Dean relayed the information of the missing people to Sam. She opened the door as well as the glove compartment, fishing out a recorder. She made her way back to stand by Dean, leaning once more against the bumper.

"It started happening more and more, so Dad and Anthony went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago, a few days before Em's birthday. Anthony called her that day. We haven't heard from them since, which is bad enough," Dean finished.

"And John left this voicemail yesterday," Emma added, holding up the recorder. It was earlier that day when Dean had stopped to fill up the Impala that Emma had noticed the blinking light on his phone and listened to the unopened voicemail. It was cryptic; nothing like the messages John or her dad had left them before. She'd shown it to Dean and that's when they both agreed that they really did need Sam for this.

She pressed a button and John's voice filled the air. " _Dean… Emma… something big is starting to happen… Tony and I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may… Be very careful. We're all in danger._ "

After the message finished playing, Sam looked at them. "You know there's EVP on that." It was a statement, not a question.

Emma smiled at him. "Not bad, Sammy. Thought you would've been rusty." Sam smiled at her genuinely, but she could tell he didn't want to be praised for that.

"Anyways," she continued, "Dean slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave and took out the hiss, and this is what came out." Emma pressed play again.

This time, instead of John's voice, a woman spoke eerily. " _I can never go home…_ " Emma pressed stop, dropping the recorder into the trunk. Sam looked at them, his eyebrows pulled together.

"Never go home," he repeated, scratching the back of his head. Dean straightened and closed the trunk, leaning against it next to Emma.

"You know," he started, crossing his arms, "in almost two years we've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." Emma glanced at Dean out of the corner of her eye, wondering why she'd let him do the convincing; it wasn't fair to guilt Sam into coming with them.

Sam sighed and looked away briefly before meeting their eyes. "Alright, I'll go," he conceded, "I'll help you find them."

Dean nodded and Emma smiled.

"But I have to get back first thing Monday," Sam insisted.

"Of course," Emma agreed, glad despite everything they'd get a bit of time with him. Sam smiled and turned his back to them, heading towards the apartment.

Dean pushed off the car. "What's first thing Monday?" he called out before Sam could get far.

Sam faced them, sticking his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. "I have this… I have an interview."

"What, a job interview? Skip it." Emma nudged Dean, who shrugged at her.

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate." Sam looked at Emma when he said this, knowing she would be happy. In fact, she was more than that: she was proud and couldn't stop the smile from spreading on her lips.

"Law school?" Dean said, smirking.

Emma looked at him. "Yeah," she said, "law school, you goof. Clean your ears when you take a shower." Dean didn't reply, still looking at Sam.

"So we got a deal or not?"

Emma nodded her head but Dean remained quiet beside her; she knew he was going to find a way to make Sam stay with them for a bit longer. Sam nodded his head once and spun around. Emma reached out to lace her fingers with Dean's, grabbing his attention.

"Dean," she said, tilting her head back to look at his face, "we're bringing Sam back on Monday." Dean pursed his lips then closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

She was about to say more when Sam called out her name. She turned her attention from Dean to look at him; a small smile graced his face.

"Do you want to come inside to meet Jessica?" Emma's eyes lit up at the idea. She nodded her head and untangled her fingers from Dean's, following Sam up the steps.

They entered the apartment and Emma couldn't help notice how inviting it looked; it was small but perfect for two.

Sam touched her arm. "I'll be right back. Look around if you want." And with that, he disappeared down the hallway, calling out to Jessica, leaving Emma alone in the living room.

She walked over to the bookshelf on the back wall, unable to resist looking at the titles. Most of the books Sam and Jessica had were classics she had read multiple times throughout the years, and she smiled to herself when she recognized a few copies she had given to Sam from her personal, although very small, collection when he was fifteen. She loved books and she relayed that to Sam, reading to him every night when he was little. Dean often teased her that she was the most literate hunter to ever exist.

As she kept on scanning the titles, her eyes landed on a photograph she hadn't seen in years, the corner of her lips twitching upwards. It was of Dean, Sam and herself: Dean was nineteen, she eighteen and Sam fifteen when the picture was taken when their fathers had dropped them off at Bobby's for a couple of weeks during one summer. Emma looked at it, remembering how that day had been one of the hottest in Sioux Falls and Sam had bet to Dean he could beat him in a wrestling match–this was before Sam had his growth spurt. Emma had come out to break the fight but Dean had grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in despite her protests because he was dripping of sweat. And that's when Bobby had snapped the picture: Dean holding Emma and puckering up to her while he had Sam in a headlock.

"I love that photo. It's the only one Sam has of you guys," said a soft voice from behind, and Emma jumped at the sound. She turned around in surprise and found a girl standing in the doorway of the living room, a kind expression on her face.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she continued, stepping closer to Emma, "but this picture reminds me so much of when my sister had boyfriends when I was younger; just look at Sam's face."

Emma glanced down once again at the frame in her hands and noticed for the first time the disgusted curl of Sam's lips. She laughed, looking back up at Jessica.

Emma stuck out her hand. "You must be Jessica," she said brightly. Jessica shook her hand and returned Emma's smile.

"And you must be the infamous Emma," Jessica joked, earning another laugh from Emma. It was at that moment she decided that she liked Jessica; with her sincere smile, kind eyes and soft voice, she was everything Emma wished Sam would find.

"It's amazing how you and Dean have been together for so long," Jessica said thoughtfully, gesturing to Emma's hands. She looked down and had completely forgotten she was still holding on to the frame. Emma nodded and set the frame back on the shelf, mentally calculating that they'd been together for nearly eight years, since they were eighteen.

Emma grinned. "He's for sale actually, five dollars if you're interested."

Jessica laughed whole-heartedly and bumped her shoulder against Emma's. "After the entrance he made earlier, you can keep him. He's quite charming, though."

Emma looked out the window to where Dean was leaning against the Impala like she had done. He was scanning down the street, looking left and right.

Sam came into the living room at that moment, duffel bag and backpack in hand. "Em, I'm ready to go."

At the sound of her name, Emma turned and so did Jessica. She noticed how Jessica looked at Sam as if she wanted to tell him something but refrained. Emma stepped forward and grabbed Sam's backpack, throwing it over her shoulder, taking his duffel in her other hand.

"I'll go put these in the car," she said to him then turned to Jessica, smiling, "it was a pleasure meeting you, Jessica. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

Jessica returned the smile. "It was nice meeting you, too. Maybe you and Dean could swing by for dinner next time you're in the area?" she said brightly. Emma didn't miss the look Sam gave Jessica as she said this, but Emma decided to go along with it.

"For sure," she lied. Of course she would have loved to have dinner with them, like a normal family, but knew it wasn't going to happen.

Emma stepped out of the apartment and made her way to the car. Dean straightened himself and popped the trunk open, helping her with Sam's bags. He closed it and leaned back against the car, crossing his arms. She looked at him, her eyes sweeping over his expression.

"Oh no, you've got your thinking face on." The wind picked up and she shivered, pulling her jacket closed.

Dean sighed and reached out to her, pulling her close to his side. "We'll go to Jericho," Dean said, "and if there's nothing by the end of the weekend, we'll bring Sam back here and pick up where we left off."

Emma nodded her head. "This is Sam's life now – college, Jessica – we can't pull him away from that."

"Yeah, I know…" There was something in his tone.

"But it doesn't mean we can't visit him. Jessica invited us over for dinner next time we're in the area." He wasn't happy about this, but it was the best option for seeing his brother without the two boys yelling at each other.

Dean squeezed her waist, silent. "I just thought of something," Dean said suddenly after a bit of silence. Emma looked at him questioningly. "We're not gonna have any alone time this weekend."

Emma rolled her eyes. "You won't die, Dean," she said, "it's only a few days."

"A few days is a long time." Emma laughed; obviously while cooking up his master plan of having Sam hunt again, he hadn't factored that it wouldn't be just the two of them anymore.

"You're a poor deprived man, doomed to a weekend of no privacy," Emma jokingly agreed with him, standing on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his.

Sam came out a few minutes later, a look of unhappiness on his face; he had probably lied to Jessica about where he was going. Emma and Dean pulled away from each other as Sam approached them.

Dean walked over to the driver's side, pulling on the door handle. "Alright," he said, "Sinclair and Winchesters move out!"

Emma and Sam rolled their eyes before getting in the Impala.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, here it is! Sorry it took so long to post (nearly a month, I'm sorry!) but I wanted to get it just right so you would get a proper sense of the dynamics between Emma and Dean, as well as Emma and Sam. If you enjoyed it, let me know; if you didn't enjoy it... I'd still like to know. We're in this together, and any feedback goes a long way to help build this story (or should I say 'gospel'?).**


	3. The Boys Are Back

The sun was burning bright as Emma stepped out of the car, stretching her legs. They'd been driving for a while, and she hadn't been able to sleep; the exhaustion was catching up to her. She bounced on the balls of her feet a bit to keep herself awake. Sam sat in the passenger seat, the door open, his legs hanging out; he was riffling through a box of cassettes, a frown on his face.

Dean came out of the convenience store, balancing miscellaneous food items in his arms. He handed a coffee and a granola bar to Emma, and she took them gratefully, hungry and in desperate need of caffeine.

"You should try getting a bit of shut eye," Dean told her.

Emma took a careful sip of her coffee. "And miss your singing?" He winked at her before turning to Sam, who was still looking in the box and reading the names scrawled onto the tapes.

"Hey," he said and Sam looked up, "you want breakfast?"

Sam eyed the items in Dean's hands, shaking his head. "No, thanks."

Emma reached over and ruffled Sam's hair playfully. "You need to eat, Sammy."

Sam looked up at her, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun. "I'll eat when we get there." Emma shook her head, leaning against the car.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam asked. "You guys still running credit card scams?" Emma glanced at Dean over her shoulder, his back to her as he replaced the nozzle back on the pump. This was the part Sam hated most about hunting: the lying, the scamming, and the stealing. Truthfully, Emma didn't enjoy it as well, nor did Dean or her father or John. But they had no choice.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean replied, closing the cover of the tank.

Emma opened the door and slid into the backseat. "We just apply, Sam. They're the ones that send us the cards."

Sam looked at her doubtfully. "Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?"

Dean got in the driver's seat, setting down his soda and chips. Emma rolled her eyes at the food choice, having given up telling him a long time ago that he won't always be able to eat like that.

"We applied separately from dad and Anthony this time. We put down Hector Aframian and his wife Jennifer. Scored two cards out of the deal."

Sam smiled slightly, amused. "His wife?" Dean gave Sam a look, slamming the door.

"Yeah, wife. Gotta make it believable."

Sam nodded his head, turning his attention back to the box. Emma settled into the back, stretching her legs across the seat. They had about an extra hour or so before getting to Jericho; maybe she'd be able to sleep for a half hour.

"I swear, man," Sam spoke up, "you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Sam…" Emma warned playfully. He should know better than to critique Dean's taste in music.

"Why?" Dean said, sounding offended.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two," Sam held up three clear boxes, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean grabbed them from his hands and put them back in the box. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"Metallica's not that bad," Emma interjected. Although, she had to admit to herself that if she had to listen Enter Sandman one more time, the cassette was flying out the window.

"Well, house rules, Sammy," Dean said at the same time. He put a random cassette into the player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"Oh, yeah?" Sam challenged, grabbing three more cassettes from the box. "How do you explain these, then?" Sam was holding up Elvis, Michael Jackson and Boston. Those were some of Emma's favorites, not counting Van Halen or Journey. Dean claimed he wasn't a fan of the first two, but put up with them for her sake; yet sometimes, she'd catch him humming an Elvis tune. If he did like him, he'd never admit it.

Dean grabbed those as well and put them with the others, taking the box from Sam's lap and handing it over to Emma.

"Em likes those," was all Dean said, starting up the Impala. Sam laughed and looked at his brother.

"You are so whipped." Sam laughed as Dean glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "Another thing," Sam added seriously, "'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year-old."

Emma leaned her head against the window. "I'll stop calling you Sammy the day I die, _Sammy_ ," she replied.

He turned in his seat, his eyes meeting hers. "It's Sam, okay?" He said, looking between her and Dean. Emma shrugged her shoulders, turning her attention away from him. Dean turned up the music.

"Sorry, I can't hear you, Sammy," Dean said over the music, "the music's too loud." Sam rolled his eyes, sitting back grumpily.

 _So much for sleeping_ , Emma thought as they pulled out of the gas station, the music muffling the rumble of the engine.

X

Surprisingly enough, Emma managed to sleep. She woke up just as they passed the sign welcoming them to Jericho. Sam was on his cellphone with the local hospital. She leaned forward and folded her arms on the front seat, resting her head on them to look at Dean, whose eyes were focused on the road ahead. It was strange sitting in the backseat of the Impala as Dean drove, having only been the two of them for quite some time. Yet, despite it all, the selfish side of her was glad they had Sam back, if only for a weekend.

Dean turned his head slightly to look at her. "Hey, you're up. Thank God, I almost needed earplugs."

She smacked his shoulder playfully. "I don't snore."

"Sure, you don't."

"You snore."

"I'm not ashamed of it." She stuck her tongue out at him and he mimicked her.

"Thank you," Sam said to the nurse and snapped his phone shut. It was quiet for an instant until Sam spoke up. "So, there's no one matching dad or Anthony at the hospital or morgue." When neither Emma nor Dean responded, he added, "So, that's something, I guess."

Emma leaned back in her seat, looking out the window, unsure if she felt relived or upset; not that she was hoping her dad or John would be there, she just wanted some sign that they hadn't dropped off the face of the Earth. Dean's face was unreadable as he looked ahead.

"Check it out," Dean said, and Sam leaned forward to get a better look, Emma doing the same. They were approaching a bridge up ahead and Emma could see a couple of squad cars blocking the road. A few officers stood at the railing of the bridge, looking over it and down, and a few more looked into a car, seemingly perplexed.

"We should pull over and see what's up," Emma said, glancing at Dean.

"Already one step ahead of you, Em." Dean slowed the car to a stop and shut it off, reaching for the glove compartment. He grabbed a tin box and rummaged through it for a few moments, handing Emma her FBI id. Sam just stared at them.

Dean met his eyes, smirking. "Let's go." Sam shook his head before following Emma and Dean out of the car.

"No sign of a struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless," a deputy said to the lead deputy, leaning out of the car, as Emma, Dean and Sam approached the crime scene, "it's almost too clean."

Emma glanced at Dean, meeting his eyes; this was starting to seem like their kind of thing.

She turned her attention back to the deputies. "So, this kid Troy," the lead spoke to his partner who still sat in the car, "he's dating your daughter, isn't he?"

The other deputy nodded his head. "Yeah."

"How's Amy doing?"

His partner looked down at his hands, frowning. "She's putting up missing posters downtown."

They came to a halt behind the lead deputy and Dean cleared his throat. "You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" When Dean spoke, it caught the man's attention. He straightened up and turned to them with scrutinizing eyes; off of his uniform, Emma could read 'Jaffe'.

"And who are you?" Jaffe asked, his tone friendly but doubtful.

Both Dean and Emma flashed their badges. "Federal marshals," she answered, closing the badge and tucking it in her pocket.

Jaffe examined each of them, his eyes lingering on Emma a tad too long. He finally looked up at Dean, suspicious. "You're a little young for marshals, aren't you? And three of you at once?"

Dean smiled brightly but Emma could tell he was trying to be as polite as possible. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you."

Emma pursed her lips slightly at Dean's tone. "He's new," she explained, jabbing her thumb in Sam's direction, "we wouldn't want to send him out on his own yet." Jaffe nodded, seemingly understanding.

Dean made his way over to the car. "You did have another one like this, correct?" He asked again, his tone serious.

Jaffe nodded, glancing at Emma before moving closer to Dean. "Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam spoke out, remembering what they had overheard about the victim dating his partner's daughter. Jaffe looked at Sam, nodding once again.

"In a town like this, everybody knows everybody."

Emma joined Dean by the car, followed by Sam, and glanced inside. The other deputy was right, it was perfectly clean: no odd smell, no cracks or nicks. She wished she could get inside and do a thorough search, but knew it was out of the question.

She straitened up, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Are there any other connections between the victims, apart from them being all male?"

"No. Not so far as we can tell."

There was silence for a moment, until Sam spoke up. "So, what's the theory?"

Jaffe shrugged, looking at the car then meeting Sam's eyes. He was completely clueless. "Honestly," he said, scratching his head, "we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance and Emma willed him to calm down, to take a breath; she knew something sarcastic was coming. "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," he said before Emma could stop him. Thankfully, Sam stepped on his foot before he could say much else. Jaffe gave them an odd look.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said, glancing at Dean then at Emma. They stepped away from the car, and Emma smiled politely at Jaffe before following Sam and Dean, a few steps behind them.

Sam shook his head just as Dean smacked him on the back of the head.

Sam turned to Dean, glaring. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Why d'you step on my foot?"

Emma rolled her eyes, reaching forward to grab Dean by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Do you have to be such a child?" She looked behind them to see Jaffe was still looking at them suspiciously.

"He started it!"

She shook her head, dragging him by the arm. "Why do you have to talk to the police like that?"

"C'mon, Em! You know these idiots have no idea what's going on." Sam gave him a look. "But it's our only shot at finding dad and Anthony. We've got to do this ourselves."

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Emma said, "but at least show them some respect, Dee."

"How about showing me some respect too while you're at it?" Sam interjected, crossing his arms.

Dean looked at his brother, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't push it."

Through there conversation, they hadn't noticed the sheriff and two FBI agents approaching them. Sam looked up and over Dean's shoulder, clearing his throat. He tapped Emma on the elbow, making her look away from Dean.

"Can I help you kids?" the sheriff asks.

"No," Dean spoke up, "we were just leaving." The two agents walked pass them, and as each of them passed by, Dean muttered "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully."

Emma chocked back a laugh despite herself, following behind Sam and Dean.

"Scully and Mulder?" Sam questioned as he reaches the passenger door, pulling it open.

"You know the X-files," Dean retorted, getting into the car. Emma slides into the backseat, not really enjoying the limited amount of legroom she had compared to the front.

"I remember you being obsessed with that show, Sammy," Emma recalled, tossing her FBI badge to Dean.

"Yeah, I was," he answered her. Then to Dean he said, "But was it really necessary?"

"A lot of things seem unnecessary to you, dude."

X

For the first of November, it was warm as Sam, Dean, and Emma walked down one of the main roads in Jericho; Emma's leather jacket almost felt unnecessary. She couldn't help but notice how everything looked as any other small town: all family owned business, small chains, and everything on the main strip. They were looking for Amy, and they didn't have much of a description other than the fact she was hanging flyers. They passed by a diner, the smell of grease wafting from the open windows, reaching Emma's nose. Her stomach grumbled, the granola bar from earlier long forgotten. Dean slipped his hand in hers.

The sight of a bookstore across the street distracted Emma when Dean said, "I bet you that's her." A young woman stood at the Highland Movie Theater, pinning up missing posters.

"You must be Amy," Dean said, and the girl turned around, her kohl rimmed eyes staring at Dean.

"Yeah," was all she answered, continuing to pin up the flyer.

"Yeah," Dean continued, "Troy told us about you. We're his cousins. I'm Dean, this is Sammy and Emma." Dean gestured to each of them.

Amy gave Emma and Dean a strange look. "You two are cousins?" she looked pointedly at their joint hands.

Emma and Dean laughed. "I'm not his cousin," Emma lied smoothly, "I'm a family friend. I've known Troy since we were young."

Amy nodded. "He hasn't mentioned either of you to me." She began walking away, but the three of them kept up with her.

"That's Troy, I guess," Dean said. This girl was not having any of it; they'd need to up their game if they wanted her to believe them.

"We don't see him as often as we'd like to," Emma added, "we live in Modesto."

"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam said.

Another girl appeared, this one wearing dark red lipstick along with heavy black eyeliner. She placed a hand on Amy's arm, looking at Sam, Emma and Dean suspiciously. "Hey, are you okay?"

Amy looked at her friend. "Yeah."

"You mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" Sam asked.

X

The five of them found themselves in the diner they'd passed by before seeing Amy. It was empty for this time of day, so they'd managed to snag a large booth in the back to accommodate them. Emma sat next to the window, with Dean sandwiched between her and Sam; Amy and her friend – Rachel, they found out – were sitting opposite of them.

"What happened, the night he disappeared?" Emma asked Amy.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and..." Amy trailed off slightly, her voice soft, "he never did."

"Did he say anything strange or out of the ordinary?" Sam pressed.

"No," she shook her head, "nothing out of the ordinary." Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see Dean pursing his lips slightly.

Dean took his arm off the back of Emma's seat and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the tabletop. "Here's the deal, ladies," Dean began, his tone serious yet still friendly. "The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything..." The two girls exchanged a look, indicating that they maybe knew far more than they were letting on.

"What is it?" Emma urged gently.

Rachel was the one to speak. "Well, it's just..." Rachel shrugged. Emma nodded her head, indicating her to keep going. "I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

"What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean said in unison. Emma fought back a smile, having nearly forgotten over the past four years that the two tended to do that.

There was a pause, and Amy shifted uncomfortably. Rachel continued. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Emma and Dean exchanged looks; Sam looked at Rachel as she spoke. "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

Rachel's words hung in the air, silence falling over the table. This was definitely their kind of thing, but Emma knew they would have to head to the local library to get more info as to why this girl was murdered–if it was even a murder–, and why she would kill the men she hitchhiked with.

The girls didn't say anything else, and Emma took it as a sign that the interrogation was finished. Reaching under the table, she placed her hand on Dean's leg and squeezed it; he bounced his knee in response. The boys exchanged a glance.

Sam cleared his throat. "Thank you for your time," he said, sliding out of the booth. "I know it's hard, but the cops are going to get to the bottom of this."

"We're gonna head out actually," Dean added, following Sam. "Go see some relatives we haven't seen in years."

Amy and Rachel nodded, quiet. "Let us know if ever you think of something else that could help us find Troy," Emma concluded, writing her phone number down on a napkin. She slid it over to Amy, who fidgeted with it.

"Thank you," the girl finally said, looking up at them, "it's nice to know someone other than the cops are looking for him."

All they did was smile before heading towards the door, Sam leading the way.

Once outside, Sam stopped on the sidewalk, facing them. "So, what do you guys think?"

"I think we should go to the library, find out more about this woman," Emma said, voicing her thoughts from earlier.

"Agreed," Dean concurred, fishing the car keys out of his pocket.

X

Sam and Dean were arguing over the ancient computer in the local library, Dean smacking Sam's hand away when his brother tried to take over the keyboard.

Emma rolled her eyes, kicking Dean's chair. She also forgot how she sometimes turned into a mother with those two. "Let him have it," she told Dean. With a huff, Dean wheeled away from the keyboard, crossing his arms.

Emma leaned forward in her seat to get a better look at what Sam was about to type onto the screen. Dean had already searched "Female Murder Hitchhiking" as well as "Female Murder Centennial Highway" with no avail. Emma tapped her fingers against her knee, thinking. What if it wasn't a murder?

"So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?" Sam said.

"Yeah…" Emma and Dean replied, seeing where he was going with this.

Sam replaced the word "Murder" with "Suicide", and the search engine pulled up an article dating back to April 25, 1981. The three of them huddled around the small screen to get a better look, yet the words were blurry for Emma. She pulled out her glasses from her pocket – Clark Kent style frames – and put them on her face. All at once, the words were clear as day.

"You still wear those? I thought you hated them." Sam said. She hadn't realized he was looking at her.

"It's either that or blurry words. I'd rather skip the headache when I can."

"I like them," Dean interjected.

They turned their attention back to the article, Emma's eyes moving over the words quickly.

' _A local woman's drowning death was ruled a suicide, the county Sheriff's Department said earlier today. Constance Welch, 24, of 4636 Breckenridge Road, leapt off Sylvania Bridge, at mile 33 of Centennial Highway, and subsequently drowned last night.'_ There was a photo of Constance Welch along with one of the Sylvania Bridge where they'd found her body–also the bridge where Troy had abandoned his car without a trace. Emma continued reading quickly. ' _Deputy J. Pierce told reporters that, hours before her death, Ms. Welch logged a call with 911 emergency services. In a panicked tone, Ms. Welch described how she found her two young children, 5 and 6, in the bathtub, after leaving them alone for several [minutes]. She reported that their complex-[...]'_ Sam scrolled, revealing a photo of Constance's husband, Joseph Welch, a quote attached to it. _'"What happened to my children was a terrible accident. And it must have been too much for my wife. Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it," said husband Joseph Welch. "Now I ask that you all please respect my privacy during this trying time."'_

Emma sat back in her chair, her mind reeling with information. Constance killed herself by jumping off a bridge, the same bridge where Troy and all the other victims' cars had been discovered. "Obviously," Emma said out loud, grabbing Sam and Dean's attention, "and assuming the legend Rachel had told us is true, Constance hitchhikes and the ones who pick her up disappear on that bridge." Emma looked again at the screen, so many unknown connections plaguing her. "Why only men? What's the connection between the grief over losing her children and committing suicide, and picking up these men?"

"There's only one way to find out," Dean concluded.

X

It was already night when they left the library, Emma surprised that the day had passed by so fast. Her, Sam and Dean walked along the bridge, unsure what they were really looking for at this point. Would Constance show up with another victim? Had her dad and Anthony already been here, having looked over the bridge like Dean was currently doing? A light breeze blew her hair out of her face as she walked over to Dean, looking down as well; it was too dark to see, put judging by the rushing sound of water below, and the quick glimpse she'd gotten from earlier in the day, one jump from where she stood could prove to be fatal. She shivered, and not from the breeze.

"So, you think dad and Anthony would've been here?" Sam said from nearby.

Emma straightened herself and looked at him. "It's the obvious place to start, isn't it?"

"They're chasing the same story and we're chasing them," Dean added.

"Okay, so now what?"

Emma and Dean continued walking along the bridge, and Sam followed. "Now we keep digging until we find them. Might take a while," Dean answered.

Sam stopped in his tracks. "Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday–" She and Dean turned around. Emma knew time was ticking, it was almost Sunday and they weren't close to finding their dads. But she and Dean would have to pick up where they left off after they returned Sam to Stanford. She was about to say this, but Dean beat her to it.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" He sounded annoyed, and Emma was beginning to wonder if it was because of not finding their dads, or because Sam wanted to go back.

"Maybe. Why not? Don't you?" This was not concerning becoming a lawyer.

Emma glanced at Dean, seeing his jaw clench at Sam's retort. "I don't need a piece of paper with our signatures to prove anything." Dean paused, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Besides, Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

"Dean," Emma warned, putting a hand on his shoulder as a warning.

He shook it off, his eyes never leaving Sam. "No, Em, he needs to think about this. She doesn't know who he really is."

"No, and she's not ever going to know," Sam answered defiantly.

"Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

Emma looked between the two, her hands curling into tight fists. The one weekend they got together… and they were fighting. Dean was walking away now, and Sam followed him in a determined fashion. He caught up to Dean and stood right in front of him, forcing his older brother to stop in his tracks.

"And who's that?"

"You're one of us!" Dean exclaimed, gesturing towards Emma and himself.

Sam shifted, licking his lips. "This is not going to be my life." Dean looked even more pissed by the comment, but Emma understood where Sam came from; no one should want this life. Her, Dean, Sam, her father… they had all been brought into it, and as much Emma wished she could get out, she knew there was no possible way. Hunting was the only life she'd ever known, and it was the only life she would ever know. She looked at Dean as she thought of this. At least she was with her family.

By this point, Dean had Sam by the collar, pinning him to the railing of the bridge. "Don't talk about her like that." His voice was low and menacing. Clearly she had missed something.

As Emma raced forward to separate them before it escalated, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was a shadowy figure standing nearby, and it was moving, coming closer and closer to where they stood.

"Guys…" Emma said, just as Sam, who was know walking away from Dean, noticed the now visible figure of a woman standing by the edge of the bridge, looking at them. It was Constance.

"Guys," Dean repeated, seeing her too. And within a moment, Constance was gone, stepping over the edge and down into the dark water below. The three of them ran to the railing, looking down and seeing nothing.

"Where did she go?" Dean asked.

Emma was about to answer when she heard the familiar rumble of the Impala. Looking up, Dean was beside her, staring at her wide-eyed. How was it possible?

They slowly turned around, the Impala's lights blinding them. Dean brought up a hand to shield his eyes. "What the fuck?"

"Who's driving your car?" It was Sam who spoke. Dean pulled out the keys from his pocket, a faint jingling sound muffled by the rumble of the engine. Emma swallowed hard, looking at the Impala. It lurched forward, its tires screeching as it charged towards them.

"Shit!" She swore. Dean grabbed her by the arm, pulling her along with him as he ran in the opposite direction. The car was picking up speed, and Emma pumped her arms harder, willing her legs to go faster. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

But the Impala was too fast for them. So, as a last ditch effort, Sam, Emma, and Dean dove off the side of the bridge.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so so so sorry if you thought I was brilliant and pulled my life together and published two chapters in one shot. I didn't. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me? *insert Sam's puppy dog eyes, and Dean's wink* My best friend had made me realize that maybe 10,000 words was too long for a chapter, and advised me I should change it only once I had new content for you guys (which is the case). So blame her, not me (ish). As you'll see, the Four Long Years chapter is Emma and Dean walking up in the motel and getting a call Bobby about their dads, and going to pick Sam up from college. And, The Boys Are Back is the three of them getting to Jericho and starting on the case, ending with them jumping over the bridge to avoid being squished à la Austin Powers steamroller. I promise it's the last time I do this. But please like and review!**


	4. Day Is Gone

It was pushing midnight when the three of them rolled into a cheap motel, tired and wishing for nothing more than a bed to sleep in, right after a somewhat hot shower. Dean was particularly testy, for the reason that not only had Constance messed with his car, but he also hadn't been as lucky as Emma and Sam when he dove off the bridge, landing in the riverbank below instead of catching himself on the rail. There was a foul smell in the car, yet neither Sam nor Emma dared to point it out to Dean.

Once in the lobby, Dean placed his credit card on the counter. The clerk looked up with a glare, surely caused by a mixture of disgust from the smell emitting off Dean and the fact that someone would show up at midnight to rent a room.

"One room, please."

The clerk glanced behind Dean at Emma and Sam, shaking his head slightly as he took hold of Dean's card. He looked at the name. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

Emma and Sam exchanged a look. "What do you mean?" she asked, stepping up to the counter.

The clerk looked at her, then back at Sam and Dean. "I had another two, Burt Aframian and some other guy. They came and bought out a room for the whole month."

"Huh," Dean played along, looking back at Sam. "Dad didn't tell us he'd be staying here."

"Mind if we got a room beside his?" Sam asked nonchalantly.

The clerk pursed his lips as he processed Dean's card. "Yeah, sure." He handed back the card and the room key wordlessly.

Outside of John's room, they hesitated. What if their dads were still here? Tentatively, Dean tapped on the door, calling out "Dad? Anthony?" There was no reply. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock picking kit and went to work. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a darkened room. They took cautious steps inside, and Emma flipped the light switch on. The room flooded with light, revealing two unmade beds. What indicated to them that their dads had in fact been here were not only the salt lines or the rotten burger Dean was holding, but also the multiple photos and news clippings, along with photocopied pages littering the walls, haphazardly organized.

"They haven't been here in a little while," Emma deduced, looking at her surroundings. Dean threw the burger in a nearby trashcan, his nose wrinkled.

"Might've left in a hurry too, this place is worse than I've ever seen the two leave a room."

Sam was examining a salt line, carefully pinching it with his fingers. "Salt, cats-eye shells... they were worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

Emma looked away from Sam, wondering what the hell was going on with John and her dad. She looked at the papers covering the walls: they were of the Centennial Highway Victims.

"Centennial Highway Victims," Dean said, answering a question she hadn't heard Sam ask.

"I don't get it," Dean continued. Emma looked at the photos, trying to put together the missing piece in their puzzle. What did all of these men have in common, apart from having disappeared in the same town? "I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

Emma continued looking at the clippings, finding various lore intertwined with news articles. She was looking at some things about devils and demons written in her father's script, when Sam said, "They figured it out."

Her and Dean joined Sam, looking at the same article they'd found the other day at the library. On top of it, this time in John's writing, was "Woman in White".

"She's a woman in white," Emma murmured.

Dean looked at Emma then at Sam. "All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, dad and Tony would've found the corpse and destroyed it."

"Maybe it has to be something else," Sam interjected.

"Well, they'd want to make sure." Dean frowned as he looked at the article. "They'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

Sam shook his head. "I'd go ask the husband if I were them."

Emma and Dean nodded in agreement. A yawn suddenly pulled at Emma. "I don't know about you two, but that bedbug ridden mattress looks plenty comfortable to me. Why don't we find an address in the morning?"

"I'm agreeing with you, Em," Sam said, yawning as well.

Dean moved towards his bag, grabbing a few things from it. "I'll get cleaned up before passing out; this smell is making my eyes water."

"Hey, Dean?" Sam called to his brother. Dean turned around.

"What I said earlier, about mom and dad, I'm sorry."

Dean held up his hand, a smirk on his lips. "No chick-flick moments."

Sam laughed and nodded. "All right, jerk."

"Bitch," Dean retorted.

"Idiots," Emma muttered from where she now sat on one of the two beds.

"Heard that!" The two boys said in unison. Dean closed the bathroom door behind him.

"So," Emma began, shrugging off her jacket. She shifted to face Sam, crossing her legs. "Tell me about Jessica."

A broad, yet shy smile appeared on Sam's face as he sat on the edge of the other bed, looking down at his hands then back up to Emma. "She's awesome."

"I figured that much, Sammy. But tell me more. How did you meet?"

"I've told you through email, Em."

"I want to hear it." It was just like old times, really, when her and Sam would sit up in the middle of the night and talk about anything and everything. Sometimes it would be about school, sometimes about their shared love for books, and sometimes, when Dean wasn't around, about relationships.

"We met in first year," Sam recounted, "and honestly, I thought she didn't like me at first." Emma smiled, thinking that any girl would be out of their mind not to like Sam. Maybe her opinion was a bit biased since he was practically her baby brother, but taking how he was considerate and caring, it would be hard not to be captivated by him.

"Obviously she did though," Emma finished for him.

"Yeah, obviously she did," Sam repeated, a shy smile returning to his face.

"Do you think she's the one?"

Sam laughed. "Em, I've never heard you talk like that." She threw a sock at him as she now rummaged through her duffel bag in search of her sleep shorts and t-shirt. "But yeah, I think she is."

Emma winked at him. "I knew it, just from your blush when you talk about her."

"Shut up," he laughed again.

"I'm proud of you, Sam." When Sam showed confusion on his face, she added, "For law school. And Jessica. Making a life for yourself."

There was a silence as Sam took in her words. "You know you're the first one apart from Jess to tell me that?" He finally said. He was looking at her in a way that let her know he was touched by what she'd said.

"Your brother is proud of you, Sam. He just doesn't voice it."

Sam gave a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "He's made it pretty clear that he thinks it's stupid, all of his. Me going to Stanford, wanting to marry Jess... Remember how pissed he was when you guys dropped me off at Stanford?"

Emma did remember, but Dean's anger had not only been directed towards Sam at the time. "You know why he was mad," Emma reminded him.

"Yeah..." He looked at her again, his hazel eyes sincere. "How are you and Dean? Since then I mean."

"Everything's great between us. Amazing even." She and Dean had broken up for six months not long after they'd dropped Sam off at school. Their split had been caused by Dean's pent up anger and hurt towards Emma for keeping something from him. Everything had been blown out of proportion, and she'd walked out on him. It had been a hard six months, not only because it was the first time in her life that it was just her and her dad, but most of all because she missed Dean more than anything. He was her best friend on top of being her lover, and she couldn't remember a time where they hadn't spent a day talking to each other. But since they'd gotten back together after those six months, their relationship was stronger than ever, both of them scared of losing the other again. That was one of the many reasons why they were so open with each other, no secrets between them.

The shower turned off. "I'm glad to hear that, Em. I don't know what I would've done if I'd been around," Sam said.

"'Mommy and daddy are fighting' kind of situation?" Emma teased.

Sam laughed whole-heartedly. "It used to feel like that every time you two would argue." Emma laughed along with him.

"Do you want the bathroom next?" She asked.

Sam glanced down at his phone. "Nah, you go. I'll call Jess, see if she's still up."

Emma nodded, gathering her things. She may as well go get ready for bed now while Dean was still in there, to give Sam some privacy.

She opened the bathroom door, the inside foggy with steam.

"Hey," Dean said around his toothbrush. He was still in a towel.

"Hey, you smell nice," Emma noted; definitely an improvement from the stench of the river.

"Is that why you came in here?" He looked pointedly at her as she changed out her clothes she'd been wearing for thirty plus hours.

"Giving Sam some privacy so he can call Jess."

"Ah," he spit his toothpaste into the sink. "He's serious about law school isn't he?"

"Yes he is," she answered, accepting the elastic Dean offered her. She threw her hair into a ponytail, and then looked at Dean. "And you're going to stop making him feel bad about it."

Dean didn't say anything in return. There was a little divot between his eyebrows and a slight purse to his lips. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his still damp shoulder.

"I know you want him to stay. I want that too. But he's got a whole life there; he's got friends and Jessica. We can't make him choose between that and us." She'd said variations of these lines so often, she was beginning to wonder if she was saying trying to convince herself rather than Dean.

Dean turned, pressing his hand to the small of her back to pull her closer. "I know, Em," was all he said. He pressed his lips to hers softly. "How long is Sam going to be on the phone?"

Emma pulled away from him. "You're impossible, Dean," she said affectionately.

X

Emma was slightly disoriented when she woke up the next morning, momentarily forgetting they were in Jericho, hunting a woman in white. It was only when she saw the wall parallel to her covered in lore and victims' smiling photos at her was she pulled back to reality. They should have slept in the other room.

Dean was on his stomach, snoring softly, an arm slung across her stomach. She looked at Sam's bed only to find it empty. He emerged from the bathroom moments later, already dressed for the day.

"Why didn't you wake us up?" Emma asked while glancing at the clock. It was nearly nine AM; they were already late on the day, with not much time to solve this case.

Sam shrugged. "You guys seem like you haven't had more than five hours of sleep in a long time." On that he was right.

Emma nudged Dean awake. "What time is it?" He said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It's almost nine." Emma pulled herself out of bed, gathering a fresh set of clothes.

"Shit." Dean did the same, throwing on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He grabbed his coat. "I'm gonna go grab some food, then we'll get down to it."

Sam nodded as Emma disappeared into the bathroom.

Not even two minutes later, just as Emma pulled on her ever-present leather jacket, there was a knock on the door.

"Em, we've got to go." It was Sam.

She opened the door quickly. "What's wrong?"

"Dean got arrested in the parking lot. The cops are on to us and they know we're here."

"Fuck," Emma swore. She walked over to the window and pulled the curtains back slightly, seeing that a cop was coming towards their room. Dean was being pushed into a squad car, and from what she could tell, he was mouthing off.

She stepped away from the window, weighing their options. Sam looked at her desperately as she wracked her brain for anything. They didn't have much time.

A thought occurred to her. "We'll have to leave through the bathroom window." It was big enough to fit Sam.

"Let's go then," he grabbed her by the arm, ushering her to the bathroom.

Thankfully, the cops gave up on them as soon as they saw no one was in the room. Emma and Sam circled back to the parking lot once the coast was clear. She leaned on the hood of the Impala, calculating their next move.

"So, Dean got arrested," Sam stated.

"Yep," Emma answered casually.

"And you're not worried."

"Nope." They were going to get him out. Sam shook his head, a smile on his lips.

Emma looked at him. "What?"

"Nothing, you just seem too calm."

"It's Dean. We always pull through."

"One day you won't though," Sam pointed out.

Emma looked down at her feet, nearly laughing when she saw the car keys glinting from under the Impala. _Brilliant, Dean_. She bent down to retrieve them, tossing them at Sam. He caught the keys easily. "Let's hope that day never comes."

X

Sam dropped Emma off at the library, saying he was going to dig around to find Joseph Welch's address – if the man was still alive. Emma searched through various books and through multiple websites, frustrated that nothing was jumping out at her. She kept coming across a Mexican folk tale about La Llorona, known as the Weeping Woman, who killed her children after her lover abandoned them for another woman and was sentenced to death for her actions. No suicide, but extreme grief. This spirit, contrary to Constance, was not a hitchhiker; instead, she'd take any children who would come across her as she wandered. A second folk tale Emma had found was one she already knew: the Ghost of White Rock Lake. In this one, a woman hitchhiker would either disappear from the vehicle of anyone who picked her up, or give an address to an abandoned house.

From what Emma could gather, every woman in white had a different MO. But what was Constance's? For one, men and the same stretch of road. However, why only those few victims over the years? There had to be some sort of commonality between them. She pulled another book in front of her, opening it with a thump.

After what seemed like hours of searching through every book and every webpage she could find, Emma was getting restless, and her vision was getting fuzzy despite her glasses. She photocopied and printed off as much as she could, and walked over to the diner where they'd questioned Amy and Rachel the previous day. The sky was turning navy and she checked her phone, seeing that she had no missed calls from neither Sam nor Dean. It had been hours since Sam left, and he'd said he would take care of getting Dean out, and she wasn't going to start worrying now. No news was always good news.

She chose a booth in the far back, and spread her papers all around. A waitress in her fifties came over to her, a pot of coffee in hand.

"You look like you could use a cup of Joe, sweetheart," she said in a scratchy voice. Emma looked up at the waitress, reading off her nametag "Deborah".

"I could use one," she agreed, smiling. Deborah poured a cup and set it down near Emma's hand. She looked at the papers littering the table.

"Workin' on somethin'?"

Emma thumbed the paper she was holding: a sketch of the Weeping Woman, her white dress covered in blood. "Uh, yeah. An article, actually," Emma lied, hoping Deborah wouldn't pry more. She gave the waitress a shy smile.

"It's a shame what happened to her," Deborah said, pointing to the Jericho Herald article with Constance's photo.

"Did you know her?" Curiosity always got the best of Emma. Maybe she knew more about Constance and her death; maybe it could help Emma gather the missing link between the women in white lores she'd found and the case on their hands.

"I was a good friend of Constance's," Deborah explained, "and she loved those kids. Never knew why she killed them though."

Emma's eyes snapped up to Deborah. "She killed her children?"

"Never said so in the news, but the town knows. I think she did it to spite her husband for cheating on her, then realized what she'd done and offed herself."

"My God…" Emma breathed. So there _was_ a link between the Constance and the Weeping Woman, and one as well with the Ghost of White Rock Lake. But it still didn't explain why she went after her victims or how they could put her to rest.

"Anyways, happy thoughts, dear," Deborah smiled warmly at Emma, seemingly unfazed by the information she had just relayed. "Want something to eat to go with that coffee?"

"Pancakes would be great, please," Emma said; those were her favorites. She could have them for breakfast, lunch and dinner, something Dean always teased her about.

"Comin' right up." With a smile and a wink, Emma was left alone. Her mind reeled at the information she'd just received. Constance had killed her children in a moment of insanity after her husband cheated on her, and now her spirit was cursed. Could it be that her victims were men she deemed to be unfaithful? Of course, it made sense and Emma felt stupid for not seeing the link before; while La Llorona took children, Constance took the lives of adulterous men. She needed to call Sam.

She dug her phone out of her pocket to check in on him, but it buzzed in her hand, an unknown number appearing on the screen.

"Hello?" She said a tad too quickly; she rarely got phone calls from unknown numbers, unless it was her dad who called from a remote payphone.

"Hey, baby."

Dean. Emma let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Sam managed to bust you out," she deduced. She couldn't deny that she was relived he'd gotten away without much trouble.

"I was hoping it'd be you, but he'll have to do," Dean joked. "Did you hear from him?"

"I was about to call him," Emma told him. Deborah came back with a stack of pancakes and set them down in front of her, retreating. She doused the pancakes in syrup and picked up her fork hungrily. "I found some things though."

"Yeah? Good. Where are you?"

"At the diner from yesterday," she answered around a mouthful of pancakes, nearly closing her eyes at how good they tasted; light and fluffy, exactly how she liked them.

"Thank God, I'm fucking starving. I could eat a horse."

Emma laughed, cutting another piece of her breakfast-for-dinner. "Just get your butt over here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Once she hung up with Dean, she dialed Sam's number. He picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, I was just about to call you," he answered.

"Yeah," Emma said, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear. "Turns out that the loving husband wasn't very faithful. He cheated on her; the waitress told me."

"Joseph admitted to that too," Sam said. "And if we follow the folk tale of the woman in white, her children didn't drown by accident, Constance killed them."

Emma stopped mid bite, her eyebrows pulling together. "How did you find that out? Did Joseph tell you?"

"No, I figured it out. Remember dad and Anthony hunted one back in '91?" Emma could practically hear the smugness in Sam's voice. Truth be told, she'd completely forgotten about that hunt; she was only eleven when it took place, and her dad tended to not fill her in as much on cases at that age like John did to Dean.

"Not everybody has a super genius memory like you, Sam." He laughed. "Anyways, did you find out where she's buried?"

There was a pause, and then Sam said, "She was cremated."

Emma dropped her fork onto her plate in frustration. "Fantastic."

"I'm gonna dig around some more. I'll give you a call if I can find anything."

She picked up her fork again. "'Kay, talk to you soon."

Dean arrived fifteen minutes later, a bacon cheeseburger waiting for him across from Emma. He dropped into his seat with a groan as he looked at the burger.

"Control yourself, Dee, we're in public," Emma chastised him, stealing a fry from his plate; he lazily swatted her hand away.

She filled him in on all the information she'd gathered, along with Sam's, as Dean polished off his burger in record time. They had everything they needed about Constance and the connection between her victims, yet they still had no idea how to get rid of her.

"Where does that leave us?" Dean leaned his forearms on the table, looking at some of Emma's handwritten notes and photocopies.

Emma leafed through her notes. "It leaves us that, according to the folktales, and what Sam found, Constance preys on cheating men on that stretch of highway. Only thing that's left now is how to get rid of her."

Dean pointed a fry at her. "And there's the whole 'never go home' thing."

She nodded slowly, thinking. Maybe because of her guilt, Constance is too scared to go home...? An idea struck her.

Dean was looking at her suspiciously, his eyebrows furrowed. "Em, you've got your thinking face on. It's scaring me."

"I've got it. I think."

"Okay, shoot."

Emma leaned forward, keeping her voice low as Deborah walked by, giving them a warm smile. "What if she literally can't go home? Since her spirit is cursed, guilt ridden, the only way to put her to rest is by taking her to the place where she killed her children."

Dean pondered the idea, stuffing another couple of fries into his mouth. "Makes sense. I wouldn't want to go back to the place where my kids died."

"Exactly," Emma agreed, a plan already forming in her head. It was crazy, but it seemed to be their only option. "I'll call Sam, get him to pick us up. Then you'll drop us off at the old Welch house," his eyes snapped to hers then; she could tell he knew where she was going with this, and he did not like it. "And then you go looking for Constance and bring her back."

Dean looked at her for a moment before leaning back against the vinyl booth, crossing his arms. "In other words, you want me to pretend I'm this horny guy who doesn't mind cheating on his girlfriend with a random hitchhiker," he deadpanned, his eyes serious.

She leaned forward. "I don't like it either, but yes, that's essentially what I'm saying."

He pursed his lips, uncrossing his arms and folding them on the table. "I imagined you giving me a hall pass for Daisy Duke, not for some dead chick."

Emma cracked a smile, reaching across to take his hand. "Would you rather it be Sam?"

"I never said I wouldn't do it."

Her phone buzzed. With her free hand, she pressed it to her ear. "Hey Sam, gimme a sec. We're paying then we'll go outside so I can put you on speaker."

"Yeah, no problem."

Dean helped her gather the papers and stuff them into her backpack. He slung it over his shoulder and placed two twenties on the table, leaving more than enough to cover their meal.

She put her phone on speaker when they were out on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, "a fake 911 call. I dunno, that's pretty illegal."

Sam laughed. They could hear the distinctive rumble of the Impala in the background. "Did you figure something out, Em? I think I got som- shit!" They heard the screeching of breaks, and then nothing.

"Sam?" Dean asked worriedly. Instead of Sam, another voice answered over the speaker, one that was all too familiar. "Take me home," Constance said. The line cut off.

Emma looked at Dean wide-eyed, only to find that his expression mimicked hers. Fuck, was the only thing that crossed her mind at that moment as she followed Dean to the back of the diner. They found a car easily – doors unlocked – and Dean got it going wit little effort. The tires squealed against the pavement as they peeled out of the parking lot at top speed; they had to get to that house before Sam.

Thankfully, the car they'd stolen could handle Dean's reckless driving, and they managed to find the old Welch house on Breckenridge road in less than fifteen minutes. But as they neared the darkened house, the headlights sweeping over the still running Impala, Emma feared that they were too late. She could see through the fogged rear window a feminine silhouette looming over the driver's side.

She and Dean were out of the car in an instant, running as fast as their legs could take them. Neither of them had a set plan in mind, a further complication being that the rock salt loaded shotguns were in the trunk of the Impala. Emma could feel her gun press into the small of her back as they neared Sam and she reached for it, thinking it would have to do.

The silence of the night was cut with Sam's screams of pain mixed with the firing of a gun and breaking glass; Dean had used his own gun to shoot at Constance.

"You okay, Sam?" Dean approached the car cautiously, while Emma stayed close behind, her eyes scanning their surroundings. She didn't hear Sam's reply because one moment she was behind Dean, and the next she was flying to the ground, suddenly finding herself unable to breathe as Dean fell on her. Since when did he weigh three hundred pounds?

"Em?" He sounded winded as well, and slightly disoriented.

"Can't... Breath..." She gasped. The pressure was taken off her chest and her lungs could properly fill with air. Dean stood above her, offering a hand. She took it gratefully.

"D'you hit your head?" He asked her, concern filling his voice. She shook her head; they had more pressing issues at hand.

The Impala's engine revved, and Emma and Dean turned to see it lurch forward, crashing through the front door of the wooden house. They pushed through the wreckage and found Sam stumbling out of the car, clutching his chest. Emma was the first to reach him and she struggled to keep him upright, but Dean was soon on his other side, stabilizing him.

"Where did she-" Sam didn't finish his question, a bureau slamming the three of them against another piece of furniture. Emma pushed along with the boys, but it wouldn't budge. The air got cooler, and Emma looked up.

Constance stood in the center of the presumably living room, holding a portrait that had survived the wreckage. From where she stood, Emma could see that it was of Constance and two young children, a boy and a girl. A chill ran through Emma as she examined Constance's haunted face, unable to fathom what it was like losing ones children... Suddenly, Constance's icy glare fixed Emma, the furniture digging painfully into her abdomen.

Water was running was down the stairs, and Emma's eyes followed the movement to the landing, where two children stood, their clothes dripping. It was the boy and the girl from the photo Constance was still gripping tightly in her hands.

"You've come home to us, mommy," they spoke in an eerie voice, sending a chill down Emma's spine. They flashed next to Constance, who looked at her children with a mixture of distraught and terror as they wrapped their small arms around her. Suddenly, she screamed. Emma had seen countless of spirits been put to rest, yet it was the first time she was witnessing something of this nature; instead of vanishing in a burst of flames, Constance and her children were melting into the wooden floorboards, leaving a puddle in their place.

The pressure on their abdomens disappeared, and Sam and Dean shoved the bureau away.

"I guess there's a first for everything," Dean said. Emma couldn't agree more as she kept looking at the puddle of goo in the middle of the living room. "Nice going, Sammy. Em had it figured out too, though I wasn't too crazy about her plan." He slapped his brother on the chest. Sam gave a pained laugh.

"You win this one," Emma teased. Sam shoved her as she walked by him to get to the Impala, where Dean was inspecting it.

"What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Sam called to Dean

"I'm glad you're the one that made out with the chick and not me," he answered, looking at Emma pointedly.

She was looking at the car instead, seeing that despite the Impala sized whole in the facade of the house, there were no dents or scratches apart from the broken windows. "At least my plan didn't involve your baby going through a wall," she retorted.

"Thanks for reminding me," he said to her before turning to Sam, raising a finger threateningly, "if you fucked my car, I'll kill you."

Sam looked at his brother, unfazed. A smirk played on his lips. "That thing's a tank."

"You two can argue in the car," Emma said, cutting off Dean from saying anything else. Another job was done, a few more lives possibly saved. It was getting late, and they needed to hit the road if they wanted to get Sam back on time for his interview.

X

Soft music played in the car as they drove back to Stanford, the roads all but deserted in the night. Sam had chosen to sit in the backseat, wanting to stretch his legs; he was looking up the note John had left Dean in his journal at the police station. As it turned out, they were coordinates, and wherever they led to, their dads wanted them to be there. Emma had an odd feeling that despite this message, her dad and John wouldn't be there, but it was their best lead at finding them.

"I'm telling you," Emma spoke to Dean over the music, "when we find them, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind." She was tired of this wild goose chase, where she got more frustrated with each passing day. If only they would give them a call once in a while... in lieu of some cryptic voicemail.

Dean took his eyes off the road briefly to look at her. "Okay there, tiger," he smirked. Emma stared back, indicating she was serious about what she'd said. She knew it bothered Dean just as much that their dads were MIA. "I know, Em. I'm not gonna tell you to stop worrying, but I am gonna tell you to relax for a bit."

"Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam said from the backseat. Emma twisted around. He was cradling a flashlight between his cheek and shoulder.

"What?"

"The coordinates," Sam told her, "they point to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado." Emma nodded. That was something at least. But why would they want them to go there? Another case?

"Sounds charming," Dean spoke up, "how far?"

"About six hundred miles."

Dean glimpsed at his watch. "If we shag ass we could make it by morning."

Emma looked between Sam and Dean, seeing the younger of the brothers shift uncomfortably and hesitantly.

"Dean..." He finally said.

Dean kept his eyes on the road, but Emma didn't miss the twitch when he clenched his jaw, or the disappointment that flashed in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I meant Emma and me. We'll take you home," his voice was stern and his tone was choppy, effectively cutting off any further conversation.

They were silent for the rest of the drive to Stanford.

X

Unlike the first time they dropped Sam off, Dean was out of the car, standing next to Emma. The tone had shifted between them; Dean's demeanor had softened in the slightest, and Sam was hesitant, almost as if he himself was questioning what he should do next. Emma felt as if this was another goodbye, one that would last much longer than the last.

"So, um, thank you," Sam said, stepping up to Emma. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Emma hugged him back. "Call once in a while, okay?" She told him. Sam didn't want to be part of the hunting life, but there was no reason why they couldn't be part of each other's lives.

"I promise, Em. Maybe we can do what Jess suggested." She smiled at him as he stepped away from her, indicating she'd like that.

Sam turned his attention to Dean. "Good luck finding dad and Tony," he told his brother, "let me know." He hesitated then, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Maybe... Maybe I could meet up with you guys later."

Emma looked at him uncertainly, and she could see Dean carried the same expression. "We made a hell of a team back there," Dean answered. Sam nodded and hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder.

"Go see Jessica," Emma urged him with a smile, "and good luck tomorrow, you'll knock 'em dead."

Sam waved at them and walked away. They watched until he disappeared around the corner of the building.

Emma rested her hand on Dean's chest. It was just the two of then again, on a seemingly impossible mission to find their dads. She knew they'd pull through; they always did. "You okay, baby?"

Dean smiled at the nickname she seldom used and caught her hand in his. "Yeah, let's get out of here," he said softly. She gave one last look at the apartment building before getting into the car. A selfish part of her screamed to make Sam stay with them, but the rational side won over; Sam was happy here, this was his life and his home, and she would never ask him to choose between this and them.

She watched as Dean settled in the driver's seat, turning on the engine. "Colorado?"

His hand reached across to take hold of hers. His palm and fingers were rough and calloused from years of hunting and working on the car, but they were comforting to Emma. "In the morning. Why don't we take it easy like I promised you?"

Sam's apartment grew smaller in the background, something Emma didn't noticed as she continued to look at Dean, the streetlights casting shadows over his face. Years ago, she had thought of going to college, to try her hand at a so-called 'normal life'. But that life was never meant for her, not if it didn't involve her family. She'd found her home, although much different than Sam's, yet founded on the same principles.

"I think that's the best idea you've had in a while," she answered.

X

The day Emma's mother left, her father had told her that life was fragile and it could shift within a matter of minutes, without warning. Years had passed since then, and she hadn't fully understood what he'd meant until now. One minute you're driving down a nearly empty road, a promise of cheap beer, food and an easy night ahead of you, and the next you're back to where you were, running at top speed on a feeling that something wasn't right.

It's what Emma was mulling over as she and Dean ran up the stairs to Sam's apartment, her head pounding. They had been nearly off campus when Dean had noticed something strange; his watch had stopped working, though he'd changed the battery last week. Emma had checked hers as well, seeing it was stuck on the same time as Dean's: five past midnight, the time they'd dropped off Sam. An uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of Emma's stomach and it remained there as she and Dean reached Sam's door, shouts emerging from behind it.

Dean turned around, his eyes wild as he gripped her shoulders. "Stay here," he ordered. Normally, Emma would have protested and followed him in, but something in his tone made her stay quiet. He touched her cheek before kicking the door open, hot air bursting through and washing over her face. The shouts were louder now, and Emma swallowed hard.

He was only gone for a minute, but that one minute seemed to last a lifetime as Emma waited for Dean to come back with Sam and Jessica. Sam's agonized screams grew louder until Dean shoved him out the door; one glance at the oldest Winchester's eyes told her that Jessica hadn't made it.

With a heavy heart, Emma helped Dean get Sam down the stairs. Before stepping outside, she saw a fire alarm and as a last ditch effort, she pulled it; no one else was dying tonight.

"Sam," Emma told him when they were out on the lawn. He struggled against her and Dean, repeating Jessica's name. "Sammy, you have to look at me."

"Em," it was Dean that spoke. She looked around Sam to him. "You get him away from here, I'm gonna look around."

Emma's eyes widened, panic gripping her all at once. "You're not going in there!" She said frantically.

Dean shook his head, steadying Sam. "I'm not, I promise." With that, he jogged away, pulling his gun out of the waistband of his jeans. What was going on?

People were beginning to file out of the building, gathering around to look at the flames bursting through the windows of Sam's apartment. Sirens blared in the distance, but none of that mattered to Emma at that moment. Over the commotion, Emma could hear Sam and Jessica's names, people asking if it was their apartment, if anyone had seen them. She urged Sam onwards so he wouldn't be seen and questioned.

Sam's screams had diminished to sobs and he leaned into Emma, burying his face in her shoulder. "Jess... Should've been there..." He mumbled, and Emma's heart broke for him. He had been so happy, and now... everything had come crumbling around him within a matter of minutes. Sam was too heavy for her to support, and so they sank to the ground, clutching onto each other.

"I know, Sam, I know," she soothed. Despite how young she'd been at the time, she could vaguely remember how John had been when Mary died, or how her dad had reacted to her mother's brusque departure. She had never experienced the pain of loss first hand, but she could only imagine it felt like this. She wasn't going to tell him that everything was going to be okay, because everything was not going to be okay. She clutched Sam closer to her, feeling his hand tighten on her jacket. For once she had no clue what their next move was going to be, but she knew that nothing was going to be the same.

* * *

 **A/N: That's the end of the first case! Thoughts? Anything you would like to see in the next chapter? Anything you would like for me to avoid? Do let me know in the reviews, and if you haven't already, favourite and follow!**

 **On another note, for those of you who have favourited and followed This IS Gospel and received a notification of two new chapters (or three) and skipped what I wrote at the end of The Boys Are Back, please see below:**

 **I'm so so so sorry if you thought I was brilliant and pulled my life together and published two chapters in one shot. I didn't. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me? *insert Sam's puppy dog eyes, and Dean's wink* My best friend had made me realize that maybe 10,000 words was too long for a chapter, and advised me I should change it only once I had new content for you guys (which is the case). So blame her, not me (ish). As you'll see, the Four Long Years chapter is Emma and Dean walking up in the motel and getting a call Bobby about their dads, and going to pick Sam up from college. And, The Boys Are Back is the three of them getting to Jericho and starting on the case, ending with them jumping over the bridge to avoid being squished à la Austin Powers steamroller. I promise it's the last time I do this. But please like and review!**


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